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Tuesday, July 23, 2013

Today's Poem or Short Story Prompt: The Word "Dope"

This blog is devoted to a select group of poets. We're starting with poets from the Ann Arbor area, but, hey, if you're from Detroit, Grand Rapids, Saginaw or the Upper Peninsula, then that is okay, too.

Our goal is to provide you with a prompt every day from which you are to garner inspiration and submit a poem. How to submit will be very easy.  Just put your poem or short story  in the comments section and hit post. You may not immediately see your post, but it is there under the "Comments" section. You may need to click on "Comments" to see your poem.  It is there on another page.


You may need to have a Gmail account to post in the comments section.  Most of you do have Gmail, but for those of you that don't it's extremely worthwhile to open up one now!  That way you've got a chance to get your work out there in the world.

Today's poem or short story prompt is "dope".





4 comments:

  1. Here's the dope--- nope,
    there's no new dope beyond "dope"
    so hope a trope plops, Pop, drops
    or hops up, pup, for daily waily
    prompt, if not prompt.

    ReplyDelete
  2. NUMB


    Self-medicating.

    Why?
    and who?
    Is that a confession or an accusation?
    and what is she/he using?
    high-grade prescription drugs? beer?
    amphetamines purchased from the kid
    on the corner of South U and Seventh
    who I only heard about,
    I swear I've never met him
    and handed him back his copy
    of Stranger in a Strange Land
    last Tuesday
    or cheap, band-aid sex?
    or television? sports?
    chasing her favorite band
    from city to city
    or his favorite team
    from arena to arena?

    No wait!

    "dope" only means something THEY do...


    Mike Fedel
    July, 2013

    ReplyDelete
  3. Where We Ended Up

    Don't be a stupe
    My mother used this word
    Like a baseball announcer would
    When the batter had struck out for the third time
    When we moved from Boston
    To the midwest
    Actually Dearborn Heights
    The sad slow brother of Dearborn
    (Where a big glass building that proclaimed "Ford" in cursive
    Could be seen from rooftops
    And above-ground swimming pools)
    We moved to this out-province where the Irish
    Our people
    With our language
    Its hurts and curses and failings
    Its generation to generation themes
    Of denial and blame and justification
    Had scattered years before
    In a diaspora where the moneyed moved north
    The less so moved to the city
    That waited to burn itself down
    No one warned her
    My mother
    So she would repeat herself
    Get louder
    Trying to make herself understood
    Using words that had no meaning in our new home

    Catherine Powers
    July 28, 2013
    Copyright 2013



    ReplyDelete